


It Could Be Amazing

by moodymarshmallow



Series: The Elf and the Apostate [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of two wardens sharing a bed, both pleasant and unpleasant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Be Amazing

They had started sharing a bed out of a kind of necessity. Both Anders and Theron were desperate for physical affection, for different reasons, and once a hint of emotional attachment had been admitted, they began spending nights together when it was practical. It was chaste—they held one another, but nothing more. Although Anders slept in the all-together, Theron kept on his smalls and the oversized shirt he had borrowed from Anders before claiming as his own.  **  
  
**Though it was comfortable for Theron to sleep in the crook of Anders’ arm, with his back pressed against his broad chest, Pounce rumbling contentedly against his head on the pillow, it was not without its drawbacks. There was unending gossip about the Warden-Commander and his apostate, though truthfully, Anders was secretly overjoyed at the idea of being called _his apostate_  rather than _the apostate_. **  
  
** The larger problem was the nightmares.   
  
There is nothing as restless as a bed containing two Grey Wardens. Often the nightmares come tandem, meaning that every Warden in Vigil’s Keep is up within minutes of one another. For Anders and Theron, it meant waking in a state of confused panic, shoving and cursing, then apologizing blearily when Ser Pounce-a-Lot was thrown off of the bed in the fit of sudden activity. Worse yet, both Anders and Theron were predisposed to night terrors of their own, completely unrelated to the corruption of darkspawn blood. **  
  
** Anders dreamt of Templars and solitary confinement, all the more terrifying now that he had found a bit of happiness. He would wake on the verge of tears, bury his face in Theron’s hair, and shake.    
  
Theron dreamt of tight, confined places where he couldn’t feel the sun or hear the wind. He dreamt of the Eluvian, and he dreamt of Tamlen. He would wake out of control, sobbing, gasping for air, struggling against Anders’ grip until it passed. After, he would turn, kiss Anders gratefully, and thank him with no explanation, leaving Anders with no idea of what had just happened. **  
  
** Then there were the sweeter moments. Those rare mornings where, despite obligations and responsibilities, they would wake late, warm and pleased, tangling fingers in long, loose hair, kissing noses and cheeks, smiling at one another like old lovers. Theron would guide Anders’ lips and hands over his ears and down his neck until his breath came fast and his skin buzzed from the insistent, earnest affection. The private, sleepy haze made Theron bold and he spent long, fond moments lavishing attention on Anders’ hands. He learned them, favoring the smooth spots where Theron had calluses on his own from bow and arrow. He brought them to his mouth again and again, tracing the lines with his lips, nibbling the pad of his thumb, leaning into his hand in a distinctly feline manner.

  
Not all the dreams were bad, either. Theron often woke in the middle of the night flustered with desire after some delicious dream. That was new to him. Not to desire—he had his wants and was highly aware of them, but to wake like that, hard and hot, skin almost painfully alight, was unique to sleeping with Anders. He would lie awake, calming himself down, wondering if the unconscious mage behind him was really as content with what they had as he said he was. **  
  
** He didn’t get the chance to ask, not that he was eager to bring it up. One night, he woke after one of those dreams to distinctly sweet friction, and found he had twisted himself around in the middle of the night so that he was facing Anders. He was clutching him, head in the intersection of neck and shoulder, straddling one of his thighs, pressing himself against him with an embarrassing amount of fervor. He immediately detached, shifting backwards away from him, disturbing Pounce, and flushing from collarbone to ear tips when he realized that Anders was very much awake.  **  
  
**“Hello gorgeous.” Anders voice was low, a bit bemused, but terribly affectionate. Theron mumbled an incoherent apology into the pillow, flush deepening as Anders laughed. “It must have been some dream. Was I in it?” He moved over him, propping himself up with an elbow and stroking sweat-damp hair out of Theron’s face. “I could be. Would you like that?” There was a different type of flirtation in Anders’ voice now, one of thicker tongue and urgent honesty. **  
  
**“Would you?” Theron asked, and Anders’ answer was immediate and affirmative. It was still a strange prospect; a human (and he was getting so much better at saying that rather than shemlen) instead of an elf. But it was more than just amber eyes and lovely hands, and it was more than how _right_  that affection felt. Maybe it was his magic, which Theron could always sort of feel bubbling in him, warm and appealing, and maybe it was that Theron could tell, in his wordless, thoughtful way, how much they needed one another. Theron nodded slightly, and a warm smile spread slowly across Anders’ lips. **  
  
** Anders sat up, resting his back against the headboard as he pulled Theron into his lap. “You want me to touch you?” He settled Theron between his legs as he pressed his back to his chest, wrapping his arms around him in that familiar cozy position they often took together, the one that worked because of Theron’s height and slim shoulders. Theron nodded again, tilting his head back as Anders buried his nose into his hair, kissing the back of one flame-red, twitching ear. “Where?” Theron was silent for a long moment, shifting, sighing, working up the words.   
  
“Everywhere.”   
 **  
**Anders kissed that ear again and slid a hand under Theron’s shirt—it was his now, there was no way that Anders was going to deny himself the pleasure of watching him wearing something that used to be his—and helped him slide it over his head, smoothing his hair gently once it was off. At first he just stroked him with soft fingertips, bare chest to bare back, finding scars, both small and large, and an absolutely delicious sprinkle of freckles on his back, low on his shoulders. Theron leaned into it, pressing to his hands when they found good spots, causing Anders to spend long, drawn-out moments on his forearms, his sides, and his inner thighs. **  
  
**Theron’s breath hitched when Anders’ hand moved over his smalls, finding a damp spot and rubbing it in slow circles. He tested, waited, made absolutely sure, because Theron had been so very adamant that he wasn’t interested in humans. Of course, they had gotten this far, yet…  
  
Theron reached up and behind him and grabbed Anders’ head, pulling him down into his shoulder. “Kiss me.”   
  
“I can’t really reach your mouth.” **  
  
** “My ears, my neck, my jaw.”   
  
“Ahh, of course.” Anders would not have obeyed anyone else. He was rewarded instantaneously with small, throaty noises and, when he slid his hand into Theron’s smalls, a lilting string of unfamiliar syllables that he guessed were Elvish. Theron rocked into his hand, pressing more firmly against Anders’ chest to brace himself. He was moblie, twisting, tossing his head, gripping blanket with his toes and twitching the fingers on the hand that wasn’t buried into Anders’ long hair. Anders found that scar, the mysterious, big one under his ear, with his tongue, testing where the dead tissue ended and the soft, reactive skin began. When he sucked the lobe of Theron’s ear into his mouth, Theron spasmed against him, bucking backwards, more of those Elvish words pouring out like they’d been pushed. Anders stroked him just a bit longer with slick fingers, sucking on that earlobe until Theron pushed his hand away, tugging himself away from the oversensitivity. **  
  
** “Was that as good as your dream?” Anders asked softly once Theron’s breathing had steadied and he had gone limp and relaxed in his arms.   **  
  
**“It was…I needed that—I needed _you_ ,” Theron said, sounding drunken and dazed. “I needed you so badly.”  **  
  
**They both knew there was more to that statement than just the warm release and the afterglow, and Anders was uncharacteristically speechless. He pressed his lips to Theron’s neck and kept them shut, lest he say something foolish about how long he’d been waiting to hear that from anyone.  
  
At least he was hearing it now; it was like a first breath after drowning, like doing magic for the first time, like being free, and loved, and most of all not being alone.

It was amazing. 


End file.
